Reflecting on
the backdrop of incidences; 2013 was a year encompassed with nerve-wracking
experiences which will leave an everlasting impression on my life. I was tossed
under strong whirlpool of nightmares, which had slowly started to engulf the
life within me. In short my life was in crisis; I was famished for happiness.
My soul was aching to rediscover the vibrant, fun loving and confident person;
I once used to be. No matter how hard I
tried, the emotional agony, I was inflicted with refused to leave me. That was
when I found writing to be of some relief; I could easily vent my emotions
without needing anyone to lend their ears to my emotional state of mind.
Sometimes
when the grieving incidence of the present haunts me, I just close my eyes and
go back to my childhood days spent in small village of
Assam. Life wasn’t either easy there. Being a forest land; bordering Assam and
Bhutan, my village was notorious for cradling terrorist, smugglers and some
village goons. With no access to proper infrastructure, our village didn’t have
water supplies and we had to live on the mercy of our neighbouring country for
it. During the times of turmoil, I have seen my family toil hard even to get
drinking water. In our village male members of the house had to travel miles to
fetch drinking water from the river. While, the females of the household had to
walk to the nearest drain like canal to wash cloths and if the water was scarce then they had to even take bath in the filthy water. The canal water would be
filled with dirt’s and carcass of dead animals. There was a temple facing the
canal and on the way to canal there were butcher shops, where everyday hundreds
of slaughters took place. Not to talk about the slaughter of human life. But,
the goddess of the temple stood silent in her porch so much like the people of the village. Deaths and
murders had become so trivial issues that even
children of our village were no longer terrorised by the sound of gun fire.
Children of our village had matured more than their age and I know I was one of
them.
We had one
government school, where the teachers refused to show their face. The walls of
the government school were like a crumpling monument, which housed climbers,
lizards, insects, dogs and their fossils but not students. Thanks, to a kind
educated lady who had started a primary school in my village which was a ray of
hope to young children of the village, like me. I remember days when my brother
and I were made to sit in veranda to study till the last speck of light of dusk
as our village didn’t have electricity. My mother being an educated lady valued
the importance of education. No matter the external conflicts going around in
my village. I and my brother were made to sit on the bed with a lamp placed on
cardboard beside us; we had to stoop to see the books and to get the alphabets
correct on the faint dim light of lamp. Another terror apart from the terrorist
which struck my village every year was Malaria. Every year malaria; would claim
uncountable lives with vicious indifference and apathy. Every summer dispensaries
would be packed with sick children, women and men regardless of their status.
Summer would bring in the news of malaria sometimes devouring an entire family
and leaving uncountable children orphaned. I myself have escaped death many
times. My nine years of childhood days were spent battling malaria; due to my
Midas fate and never give up attitude, I somehow managed to defeat malaria, but
now I have realized that it has come to challenge my immunity to a great
extent.
In spite of
being in a place full of tensions and turmoil, my childhood days were something
to cherish. There was certain calmness which has indeed become very hard for me
to find now. I still remember running around my grandpa’s orchids wildly. What
a carefree life it was. Sliding on hays meant for cows to discovering hidden
treasures inside the tyres kept in the dirty store-room. I remember plotting a
scene where my elder brother would act like a pirate, he had even painted his
tooth black with marker and another fellow had used a broken glass found
discarded on store-room, to give a wicked pirate feel. We had made boats out of
tyres' and every time those wicked pirate would threaten us by moving the tyre,
me and my friends would shudder with fear. On monsoons we would be ready with
our paper boats to sail it in the puddle outside our veranda. But sadly now, I
cannot even sail through a small puddle of my life’s trials and tribulations.
As I open my eyes I realise life had so much struggles in the past as well. But
I had not failed to appreciate its tiny delights at such a tender age. Coming back
to my present state now I can truly understand my present situation and it
brings a smile on my face because now I know that I am GROWING
UP…..
PS: MY deeply embedded thought....
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PS: MY deeply embedded thought....
Hey!! my lovely readers you can follow me on my facebook pagehttps://www.facebook.com/ExploringMyLittleWorld91. you can leave ur comments and feedbacks :)